


strange, wondrous things

by armyofbees



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drabble, M/M, Mermaids, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr request, it's a mermaid au guys, john's running away from his problems, mermaid lafayette, my beta firmly believes that lafayette just fcukin killed john after this, not a cute one tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 03:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13205091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armyofbees/pseuds/armyofbees
Summary: Strange things are bound to happen under the light of the full moon. Laurens has never been a superstitious man, but he knows this.





	strange, wondrous things

Strange things are bound to happen under the light of the full moon. Laurens has never been a superstitious man, but he knows this. He knows that any sane man would stay far from the docks, far from any ship, this late at night, but he’s always been inexplicably drawn to the ocean. He’s always loved the water—dark and swirling, mysterious,  _ dangerous. _

It’s summer, and he finds himself on a dinghy that is not his, floating in the middle of the bay. The mist around him settles beneath the moonlight, the stars glitter overhead, nearly drowned out by the moon. He watches the clouds cover and uncover them, like some kind of painting. Laurens thinks he could paint it if he wanted, but he didn’t bring a pen, and the only paper he has is the despicable, ruinous letter he clutches, crumpled.

He has no intent to think of it, beyond acknowledging its edges biting into his palm. He has no intent to think of anything, except for the stars and the water and the rocking of the boat underneath.

He does not know how long he stays still, just laying there, but the sky is still dark when something rocks the boat from underneath. Laurens sits up immediately, glancing about warily. Suddenly, being out alone at night doesn’t seem so wondrous.

The boat jolts again, then tilts heavily to one side, and as Laurens stares, a strange face rises from the water. The creature is magnificent, beautiful—its scales glint something silver and blue. Its face looks like a man, but scales glint on its cheekbones, and peek out from its neck and collarbone. Laurens is no fool. He knows the stories of these beasts.

He has also heard, in theory, that they are naturally alluring, and dangerous. The moment Laurens meets the creature’s eyes, he falls in love with it the same way he did with the sea: recklessly and wholly.

“Hello,” the strange creature says, voice accented and head tilted curiously.

Laurens cannot muster the words to reply at first. He can only openly stare at the scales, the sheer anomaly of the night. He remembers himself after another long, shuddering heartbeat, and he asks, “Are you real?”

The creature narrows its eyes for a moment, and Laurens feels his chest seize up (he  _ knows  _ the stories), but when it speaks, it is more bemused than angry. “I believe so. Are you?”

Laurens looks up to the sky, only just now remembering the letter in his hand. “Sometimes I wish I weren’t,” he says. It feels strange, but not unpleasant, the way the confession seems to just slip past his lips.

The creature frowns. “But you are so…” it trails off, reaches a hand towards him, gently resting its fingers against his jawline.

“What?” Laurens breathes, almost choked.

“You are fascinating,” it says. Its accent is exquisite, and Laurens wonders where it could possibly have come from.

He does not even think to stop himself before he replies, “So are you.” He is leaning into the thing’s touch, and all he wants to do is get closer. His heart pounds in his chest. He knows the stories—and yet…

“You have a name,” it whispers, once he is close to it; so close but not quite touching, just enough to feel its breath on his lips, on his neck.

“Laurens—John—John Laurens,” Laurens half-murmurs, half-stammers. The thing smiles, just faintly, sweetly. It is so, so close.

_ “Jean,” _ it breathes. “I am Lafayette.”

Laurens gives a miniscule nod. Lafayette drags its eyes from his eyes to his lips, to his neck, and there is a small, unspoken question— _ do you mind? _ —before it is tilting its head just so, and its lips meet his. Lafayette is cold and searing and gentle all at once, pulling him in closer and barely letting its sharp teeth graze his lower lip.

Laurens jolts suddenly and scrambles backward, the letter burning in his hand. “I—”

Lafayette looks disappointed and confused, but it is already speaking over him, “I am sorry, you just seemed…”

Laurens quiets, frowning. This was not in the stories. “You’re… sorry?”

Lafayette barely nods before it blinks up at him and asks, “John Laurens, what are you hiding from?”

The question hits John square in the chest, and he doesn’t realize he’s handing the letter to Lafayette until it is reading it and tossing it over the side, into the water.

“Wait—” Laurens lunges after it, the boat rocking mutinously. He watches it as the ink begins to run, as the creamy paper takes on water and begins sinking… He watches the words  _ Martha Laurens _ and  _ daughter _ fade into the blackness of the sea.

Lafayette gives him another one of those sweet smiles, and Laurens, after a moment’s hesitation, lets himself be lost in its eyes and that pure, unadulterated splendor.


End file.
